


Sorry. Couldn't write. Werewolves.

by coffeebuddha, rispacooper



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Biting, Crack, Fanfiction, Fantasy, First Kiss, First Time, Future Fic, M/M, Masturbation, Romantic Friendship, Scent Kink, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-05
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 12:36:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeebuddha/pseuds/coffeebuddha, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rispacooper/pseuds/rispacooper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a late night tumblr conversation with coffeebuddha that then went off the rails... Stiles writes fanfiction for an online RPG community where he battles monsters. Writing brings out all these FEELINGS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sorry. Couldn't write. Werewolves.

That was Stiles' life at the moment. Werewolves and fanfiction and the fans who read his loosely based on a certain online RPG fanfiction who thought he was kidding about the werewolves but who were real serious about their fic updates. Maybe it was their fault that Stiles' little hobby to escape from his freak reality was becoming a new freak reality of its own. A reality in which a stupid troll with a bad attitude and broad shoulders and a scrawny but still brave sidekick had taken over what was supposed to have been an epic romantic adventure of a prince searching for a cure for his magical curse. Stiles still wasn't sure how that had even happened, though he thought that giving the troll that sad backstory hadn't helped. 

The story had been for fun and for research but mostly for fun. He battled monsters in real life, he'd thought he could probably do a better job of describing battling monsters than a lot of the people he played with, so he'd started writing. The troll wasn't even supposed to have been a main character. He was a side character. A _troll_. That said it all. 

But Stiles' fans didn't see it that way. They were IMing him even now because he hadn't been online in a few days and they were missing him and of course they wanted updates on their favorite two characters and their… love story. Stiles wasn't sure how he felt about that, but then he wasn't sure about a lot of things lately. His escape from reality was getting more and more complicated, so complicated that he couldn't sleep and his hands were shaking. 

It could have been adrenaline from his misadventures earlier that night--or his misadventures of yesterday evening since he had no idea what time it was except near dawn--but he knew deep down that it had been long enough for the effects of adrenaline to have worn off and that it wasn't adrenaline making him tremble. It was the ache in his muscles from sitting still for so long to finish this and the knowledge that he was actually, finally going to do this. The tension holding him in his chair was almost painful. 

But after staring for a moment in the dim light of his room, he opened the file he had been opening and closing to start and stop and add to all night. Even with the innocent title, the supposedly hidden file always seemed to be right at his fingertips. 

He might have stayed away longer if not for Derek, Stiles decided with grumpy, tired, resentful feelings but then sighed. He had a lot to blame Derek for, but right now anger was not the emotion surging through him. Stiles felt like he'd been doing practice drills all night, like he hadn't slept in weeks. His muscles were quivering and his back hurt from his chair. His stomach felt unnaturally warm. But he wasn't moving. The story wasn't done yet. 

To be honest there was a part of him that had always thought this story, this fictional online time killer that he'd written, was _epic_ , a work of art even if it was fanfiction, because he, Stiles Stilinski, butt of all jokes, had made people _cry_ with his words, he had moved them and he made them hard and he had gotten panties wet, _he_ had done that with his imagination, and at first he'd thought it was that strange, intangible power that had kept him so breathless as he'd been writing. But that hadn't been what made his heart beat fast to think about and it hadn't been what had gotten him hard along with everyone else. 

No the power was nice, but it wasn't everything here, and what really was pissing him off was that he had done all of that, created an entire world within another world, without a single thing happening onscreen to ever twig him onto what seemed so obvious now. 

The file was mocking him, along with the header on his last post three days ago when he'd apologized for no recent updates in what had become the saga of Erik the grouchy but courageous troll and Miles the… somewhat magical sidekick: _Sorry. Couldn't write. Werewolves._

Stiles shivered and glanced over the words, though he knew exactly what he had done and what he had done tonight to add to it. To finish it. 

Three days ago, Erik and Miles just barely survived an orc attack. They might not have made it through at all if not for Erik's strength and accelerated healing and Miles' supreme ability to be continually underestimated by his enemies. With magic and imagination and a quick wit as his resources, he should have been unstoppable; he certainly should have won the heart of the far off princess Lyssa long ago. Pages ago. Lifetimes ago, Stiles thought, with an odd sense of betrayal. She was a beautiful princess. That was what Miles had always wanted, no matter what his fans thought. 

But he couldn't help but think that whatever his intentions, Miles wasn't with the princess after all this time. Instead he was where he always was, at Erik's side, or more likely, shoved behind Erik's strong body while Erik shielded him from the worst of the orcs' attack until even Erik was almost overwhelmed and Miles would have to save the day.

No. Stiles licked his lips. No that wasn’t exactly where Stiles had left them. Not this time. This time after reading discussions by his fans--because he had fans who had discussions about him and his work, that was really happening--and prompts and a horrible night on his computer, and after booze, so much stolen booze that had been supposed to make it better, that had been supposed to make Stiles understand why his fans thought Erik and Miles were so gay for each other and in love with each other and so gay and in love for each other and afraid to admit it, Stiles had done what everyone had been begging him to do. 

He hadn’t even understood it until he'd done it. But he had--as a joke, as an experiment, as a lark because how could trying to write gay porn when you were an all kinds of sex virgin ever go wrong, he had tried to answer those prompts. 

At least he hadn't posted any of his answers. Even drunk he'd known better. 

Not with those typos and awkward scenes involving kinks he didn't get, and _sex_. Stiles didn't know how to write sex because he didn't know how to _have_ sex, just what turned him on. He hadn't known what he was doing, something very clear when he'd reread his dozen or so half-finished porn prompts the next morning with his throat dry and his face flushed. 

_Miles squirmed deliciously but the leather at his wrists wouldn't give. Erik just looked pleased to have him finall stil and quiet._

_Erik growled, his fists slamming into the stone wall on either side of Miles, he made a hungry sound, roughadn loud when Miles pulled his mouth away from his cock. The length of his cock, big and thick. Miles has never sucked a cock before and he can barey get his mouth around it but hw wants to._

_…his hand is sliding over his ass, like he owns it. Miles can't tell what he's thinking but he's horny and he's tired of waiting. 'so fuck me already," he snarls breathlessly, pushing back and wishing he knew what to expect, only knowing that the soft touch to the small of his back wasn't it. it makes My heart beat faster._

And the worst, the best, one. The one to have Stiles shuddering even now. _Erik's open mouth was hot at his shoulder, moving from kisses to something hotter, slower. Miles felt Erik's teeth drag over his skin and sucked in a breath other thento push his head back. The move lefth his neck exposed. He felt oen, he didn't know what Erik felt, he'd never said, bt tyhis was heady, like his breath, hot over his damp skin. He wanted to bite, to mkar, like pain was his way of telling Me--_

Stiles had looked and looked the next morning, but no one had prompted him to write biting porn. It was like the idea had just sprung from him, out of completely and absolutely nowhere. 

Which was exactly why he'd hidden the file even further away and left his computer for three days. Because that was something he didn't need to think about. He had enough on his plate with high school and fucking werewolves that he didn't need a sexuality crisis and a _feelings_ crisis on top of it. 

Feelings were for someday when his life wasn't this. 

Except for earlier tonight when of course Stiles had stumbled across the path of a lost and seriously out of control Omega and then across the path of a very angry and wolfed out Derek and then stumbled into blood, so much blood. Even if a lot of it had been the Omega's, a lot of it had been Derek's too, because he'd taken the worst of it while Stiles had laid there stunned and stupid. 

Yeah he'd finally gotten his act together; he'd watched Derek subdue the other werewolf and then jumped into the fray to convince the guy to either join Derek's pack or leave town. Considering Derek had been fierce and big and covered in blood it was probably no surprise that the other werewolf had fled. Anyone in their right mind, or close enough to it, would have. Derek hadn't seemed very friendly. The look he'd been giving Stiles had been half-betrayed, half-Stiles you fucking moron, and that was after years of knowing each other and mutual life-saving adventures. He hadn't let Stiles get very close to the other werewolf, but at least he hadn't shoved Stiles out of the way. He'd just snarled and let Stiles talk because talking really wasn't Derek's thing, especially when he was wound up like that. Reading Derek was a lot like looking for subtext, subtle eyebrow twitches and posture and what he did more than what he said. 

Because what Derek did was sometimes misguided and wrong, but it was also pretty damn heroic, and consistently heroic at that. Stiles was an author; he knew about these things. Derek messed up but he kept going and tried to do what he thought was best, so someone had to give him a hand and point out what was _actually_ best on occasion and then be there to help clean up the mess later. Stiles didn't think that was heroic, not on level with Scott or Derek, but it was something. Not enough for an epic romantic adventure but at least an epic buddy quest. It had at least earned him the right to be there, he'd thought. He'd even hoped that Derek had finally started to agree with him. 

So Stiles had let his heartbeat slow and watched Derek painfully shift back into something a little more human before he'd offered to drive Derek to the doctor. Which, naturally, had only made Derek focus on him with his whole burning Alpha wolf intensity thing and yell at him for being alone at night and not knowing how to protect himself after all these years and for not calling him sooner. 

Stiles had totally called him, by running frantically in Derek's direction and screaming. The screaming might have alarmed Derek a little too much, judging from the ferocity of his roar as he'd appeared and how extremely unwilling to welcome the Omega he had been. 

The moonlight had slid over Derek's shoulders and illuminated his face and Derek's hands had curled tight with need and, oh yes, concern, in Stiles' clothes, like he had _needed_ to keep Stiles still, and he'd inhaled, shakily, just over Stiles' shoulder and Stiles had stopped arguing long enough to think about thanking Derek for saving him. Except that he'd saved Derek two weeks before so they were kind of even, and anyway, his throat had felt tight. Derek had been giving him that same look, wounded and pissed off and Stiles hadn't really understood it, he still didn't, but Derek hadn't let him go and they'd both been breathing hard by then and Stiles had thought, completely and totally out of nowhere, "Erik should kiss me now" and realized… oh everything that was fucked up in his life. 

Years too late, he had a feeling. Even Scott had probably figured this out before him, maybe way back when Stiles had fallen asleep with the Word document open and Scott had come into his room and read part of it. 

They did not, and would not ever, speak of that night, but now Stiles kind of thought they should have. Because he'd torn himself out of Derek's arms with a panicked gasp that hadn't calmed Derek down any and run to his jeep and sped all the way home before Derek could growl at him anymore. Home to an empty house and his room and his computer and a file that had been mocking him so hard he hadn't been able to sleep. 

He'd thought maybe, if he finished it, if he gave the people their love story and their porn, they'd leave him alone and it would be over, online and in real life. Because he couldn't think of anything worse than having feelings for Derek because Derek would never have feelings for him, outside of annoyance and a strange sort of kinship. The idea of Derek reacting to Stiles' feelings, rejecting them like he would, had made Stiles feel cold inside, like when he'd once tried to kill Erik off and had ended up with pages and pages of Miles alone and trying to carry on without him. 

He'd changed it to give Erik accelerated healing so he wouldn't die and then had tried sending Miles off to finally go after his princess, only when left to himself Erik had wandered into a pretty obvious ambush to be captured and tortured. If Miles hadn't come back Erik might have died for real. 

Their reunion had been one of those things that made Stiles almost think he was brilliant, because they weren't just friends, they needed each other. Obviously the story couldn't go on, couldn't end properly, if they weren't together, so Stiles had decided to do that. He was going to get them together and end the story and then never write fanfiction again. 

It helped that his room was dark and his dad wasn't home. Because his own words were making his pulse race and his dick pound in his jeans and he couldn't stop staring at his screen like he was watching it happen and not making it happen. 

_Erik pressed him to the ground, his body as strong as the oaks of the wildwood around them. Miles' gaze wandered over the outline of him, noticing how the slivers of moonlight hit Erik's bare shoulders. His breathing was off, heavy as it only ever was in battle, fast with desperation. If Miles was uncertain than Erik was even more so, perhaps even afraid to move._

_Bold, brutish Erik who could never be hurt for long, who was almost undefeated in warcraft, was afraid to move. He would not, not until Miles did, maybe not even then if Miles were not careful._

Stiles chest hurt. He realized he wasn't breathing. His wrists ached from typing but he didn't stop. 

_His hold was tight, his weight enormous, but Miles shuddered back into the soft earth and let it crush him. He left his fingernails in Erik's skin as a reminder, but knew Erik would never hurt him like this. For being stupid and reckless, maybe, because trolls learned through pain and he could not understand why Miles did not listen, why he would not do what was safe._

_Miles decided to show him._

_He lifted his head to mouth at Erik's neck, though of course at the startled grunt from the man above him he had to laugh a little._

_"How is this a surprise?" he demanded and slid his cheek against the rough growth of hair at Erik's jaw. Erik's roar was not quiet, but he pressed Miles into the ground and shifted above him, frightening and real. Miles moaned his approval. "Do it," he ordered when Erik still would not move, and spread his legs, because he wasn't afraid, much, anymore._

_Everything he touched was so warm, tense shaking muscle, Erik's mouth, opening for his fingertips, Erik's tongue, his teeth._

Stiles hadn't known. He really honestly hadn't known, not that anyone would believe him now. He moaned and let his head fall back. He could still see the screen, but he needed his throat exposed for what he was imagining. 

Stupid. It wouldn't happen and never like that, so of course that was what he wanted. 

_Erik bit at the pads of his fingers and then grunted at Miles' daring, or maybe at his stupidity in choosing to do this with him. Erik's hands were clutching tighter at Miles' hips, his fingers digging in hard, painfully, and yes, desperately, but then Erik growled and yanked to bring Miles closer. Miles' pants were in the way, but one rough shove and they were down enough for Miles to almost die of embarrassment. He'd never been naked like this around anyone before. For anyone before. Even in the dark he could tell that Erik knew he was blushing._

_Erik made a noise that might have been a gentle word from anyone else and settled over him, his mouth hot at his cheeks and then down over his neck. He sucked at the hollow of his throat and at the scrape of his teeth, Miles swallowed and pushed up. It was all he could think to do now, but hold on and push up and make Erik hurt with how much he wanted it. Erik had to want it that much too. He had to._

Stiles strained up in his seat, rocking up as Erik's hands slid down to his cock, then lower. He was breathing now, too much, almost hyperventilating at the mixed memories of porn videos and Derek's fingers and imagining the size of them, pushing inside. If they were big then a cock might break him, but this was magic, magic with no lube and soft ground and Stiles had a feeling even if it hadn't been he would have been groaning and wrapping shaking legs around Derek's hips because he didn't want Derek to go slow, not even a little. 

_"It's been long enough." Miles could barely speak. It hurt and he was only human, a weak human with so-so magic abilities, but he knew he didn't want to wait anymore and he could take it. He clawed along Erik's spine and shuddered at the teeth that bit into his shoulder. "Yes. Fuck yes." Erik was inside him. Erik had claimed him._

Stiles pushed a hand against his dick and then yanked at his zipper, shutting his eyes so he wouldn't see the screen and he'd just see Derek moving above him, furious with him and hard and inside of him and if he bit… if Derek bit him… even innocently without breaking the skin… it would mean he was gay for Stiles and in love with Stiles and needed Stiles so he wouldn't wander alone and Stiles was so gay and in love with that idea that he didn't stop for lube or lotion. He pulled out his dick and panted hoarsely at the ceiling and stroked himself thinking of teeth at his throat and a cock in his ass and his body wrapped tight around a grunting Derek. 

Together they didn't die. Together they survived, and lived and were happy, even without princesses. Stiles shook with the pain of it and the feel of his dry palm and brought himself off hard, choking out that name and shooting come up his chest and a little on his keyboard and he couldn't breathe, he couldn't, because he could already tell it wasn't enough. It wasn't _done_. 

He opened his eyes, blinking away the blurred edges around his vision, and then caught the twin glints of red reflected in his monitor.

Stiles was too brain dead from no sleep and writing all night and coming all over himself to do much more than stare at those two red lights. He could feel the breeze now, indicating his window had been opened and he hadn't noticed, but humiliation and fear had him frozen for way too long. Long enough for Derek to take in anything that his werewolf senses wanted him to take in, like the jizz smell in the air, or Stiles' fast breathing or the bad gay porn on his computer screen that Stiles had obviously been writing. Or hell, the fact that Stiles had been gasping out Derek's name a second ago. 

Stiles thought, a second too late, that he ought to cover himself, but his hand barely twitched in the attempt because Derek's eyes were on him. Red, just slightly wolfed out eyes. 

Stiles swallowed. "Don't kill me." There were no real names in his writing, but there was no need to assume that Derek would be as slow about this as Stiles had been. Erik. It was so freaking obvious now. Scott must have had nightmares. 

He couldn't tell from the silence if Derek was reading what was on the screen but Stiles reached for the mouse and then stopped himself and shuddered. Derek was way too interested in Stiles' being alive to kill him, but he could still leave. He _would_ leave, now that he knew that all these years they had been bickering and saving each others' lives and taking each other to the hospital--or the vet--in frantic breathless trips, Stiles had been harboring beautiful, painful, forever, _epic_ feelings for him. 

"Earlier. Tonight. I thought…. I came…. You weren't asleep." Derek's voice rumbled in a way that was not reassuring. Stiles felt a spark travel down his spine and dug his hands into his thighs. He had no idea what Derek was trying to say but he shut his eyes and shook his head. 

"I was wound up from, you know, almost getting eaten. I needed to…" Stiles waved his hand vaguely to indicate _relieve tension_. "I have hobbies." Hobbies. Like working out his various denial issues through high fantasy porn. _Werewolves_ were the normal part of his life. 

He refused to think about the notes that were at the bottom of the screen and clearly visible. The biting. The fucking. The claiming. Falling asleep together. But the flush from his orgasm was fading and he couldn't stop shivering. 

"You called for me." Derek seemed confused. Stiles opened his eyes just so he could roll them. 

"You really are lost without me to explain things to you aren't you?" He snorted, because he wasn't embarrassed at his ridiculous life, not at all. "I was thinking about you while I--"

It was far as he got. The chair moved and he moved with it until he was facing Derek. Derek's arms were on either side of him. He was glaring. Or Stiles thought it was glaring for half a second before his tired brain caught up to the color in Derek's cheeks and the glimpse of Derek's tongue. Derek was breathing with his mouth open, frowning at him, yes, but also doing this really distracting breathing thing. 

Stiles automatically noted it for a later chapter then realized what he was doing, then forgot all about it because Derek frowned even harder and looked down at his body, at Stiles' dick and his come and his shirt riding up over his stomach and his still-hard nipples and that look… Stiles had never seen a look like that, not aimed at him. He didn't know what to do. He flailed a little, hitting Derek, though Derek was all healed up from his fight with the Omega so it probably didn't hurt.

It made Derek look up and stare deep into Stiles' eyes with his normal, human, Derek intensity, just for a moment, and then his gaze went down. 

"I thought you were having a nightmare. You… you ran away. You never look afraid even when you are. That Omega…. You should have called me sooner." He didn't finish, but he didn't have to. Stiles was tired and mortified but his brain still worked, like, kind of, almost magic. 

Derek had been outside his window all night, probably listening to his heartbeat, listening to him type, wondering why he wasn't sleeping. Derek had been worrying. About _him_. 

"You were... writing." Derek wasn't asking. Stiles nodded anyway, let his head loll a little further back until Derek made a noise. From anyone else it might have been a word. But not a gentle one, it was more frustrated, or hurt. Like Derek was in pain. 

"Yeah I…" Stiles wasn't sure what to say. What do you say when your dick was out and you'd just been jerking off to thoughts of the werewolf looking right at you? Derek probably would have pretended he hadn't been doing that. But Derek was a hero. Stiles was just a sidekick, so he tilted his chin up. "I have fans." 

Derek didn't laugh, just narrowed his eyes and nodded as if that was to be expected, like Stiles wasn't a sidekick at all and Stiles' mouth dropped open just the slightest bit before he closed it. He made a show of rolling his eyes, because if Derek was a real life fan of his he couldn't take it right now, but that was all he got to do before he was gasping and Derek was leaning into his space to sniff at him.

No, to sniff at Stiles' _come_ , as if he didn't know exactly what it was. Stiles squirmed and shifted and Derek's hands moved to his hips, to keep him still. It made Stiles want to squirm more, but he only pushed his hips up when Derek dropped his head. His mouth was almost on Stiles' clothes. Stiles raised his hand and felt Derek's breath on his fingers a second before he felt his teeth. 

"You called for _me_." Derek said it around the bite, the slightly desperate, totally awesome bite. His hold on Stiles was so tight it should have hurt. Stiles pushed into it and opened his mouth. 

"Is that really a surprise?" So what if Stiles' epic feelings weren't just news to him? He couldn't resist a _little_ sarcasm. It lasted for as long as it took for Derek to crouch down and put his face against Stiles' shirt and the stripe of his drying come. Stiles tensed and dug his fingernails into Derek's shoulders. He was like, right next to Stiles' dick. Stiles had never written that. He hadn't dared. This was reality, awkward and weird and so fucking hot. "Oh my God."

Derek was into him. Derek had _feelings_. 

"This isn't just friendship, right?" There were so many things Stiles should have asked instead of that, beautiful, meaningful things, but that made Derek stop and look up with his eyebrows raised. After a few seconds his frown deepened and he yanked Stiles forward. His mouth was at Stiles' collar and then almost at his shoulder. Stiles stopped breathing and then made an embarrassing moaning sound at the dragging press of teeth into his shoulder and the following wet suction of Derek's mouth. 

"Not slow," Stiles didn't know sex talk he just knew porn and what turned him on. He didn't care if it sounded stupid because this was really happening. Not onscreen. This was real. "Derek. God. Do it." Derek growled into his skin and shifted back down to lick at Stiles' dick. Stiles twitched and gasped at the ceiling. "Derek. Fuck." 

It didn't matter that Stiles had just come, though he could still smell it which meant Derek could be getting high off the scent as far as he knew. It didn't matter because Stiles was going to come again, very soon, as long as they kept going. 

"You should kiss me now," he directed Derek dreamily, because Erik and Miles had done just about everything but they hadn't done that. Derek lifted his head to give him an impatient scowl, but Stiles read his grunt as a definite agreement. 

Stiles' computer pinged with another message from some impatient fan but he didn't even reach for the mouse. Derek was going to kiss him. They could fucking wait: _Sorry_ , he thought, leaning in and putting his hands on either side of Derek's face and giving Derek the best serious face he had, _can't write, werewolves._

**Author's Note:**

> Here is where the conversation began: Stiles writing WoW type fanfiction porn. Adorable! I bet he never makes himself the hero even in fantasy.
> 
> aaaah, I want fanfiction about Stiles writing fanfiction now! He self inserts himself as the supportive best friend who helps the main character get the girl and save the day without getting any of the credit.
> 
> HIS FANFICTION IS AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL.
> 
> He’s not upset though. If he’s bitter it’s because this grouchy but sexy troll character keeps appearing in his stories and taking them over and where is that even coming from?
> 
> He starts writing side stories about the troll, just so he’ll hopefully stop showing up in the main story—which never works, but he had to TRY, right?—only then his side stories end up being longer, more compelling, and more popular than his original story ever was.
> 
> The troll—Erik—get a backstory and all these other characters keep hitting on them and suffering horribly tragic deaths afterward. So Erik is alone when he realizes that he will need the sidekick to save the world with him.
> 
> Stiles’ character is totally not swept off his feet in the process. NOT AT ALL.
> 
> Always growling and then saving the sidekick’s life. They get wet together a lot, have to share bedrolls, that sort of thing. It’s just survival.
> 
> He can’t bring himself to delete the story later. Something about the cuddles and then porn turns him on in the worst way and he doesn’t want to think about it, so he just keeps writing it and jerking off and the sarcasm fights are in there too, and he is all horny and confused and people say his stories make them cry with the love in them and he’s like, what love? the love the sidekick feels for the faraway princess? & they think he’s teasing because obviously sidekick loves Erik. Obvsly
> 
> Fanfiction is supposed to be his escape from all the crazy shit he has to deal with. IT IS NOT SUPPOSED TO UNCOVER ALL THESE FEELINGS IN HIM.
> 
>  
> 
> And yes, I would read that story. I would stalk that author/Stiles all across the interwebs if that story were real.


End file.
